


An (in)Convientient Bond

by Mertisal



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe, Desperation, F/M, Humiliation, M/M, Multi, Poor Laurence, Post-Canon, Psychic Bond, Public Masturbation, he learns a lot about himself, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:40:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25614469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertisal/pseuds/Mertisal
Summary: Laurence personally still balked at admitting to having an empathic bond with Temeraire, not because he resented it--that was the exact opposite of the truth, he could no longer imagine life without it--but because it seemed simply too fantastical. But certainly it was real, and for that he was infinitely grateful.Or maybe something just slightly less than infinitely grateful, Laurence thought with no small amount of embarrassment, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. From that far back section of his head and chest where he always felt the wondrous presence of his dear Temeraire, came the much less welcome sensation of slowly creeping arousal.Psychic bonds have their uses, and Laurence is about to discover one more
Relationships: (sort of) - Relationship, Lung Qin Mei/Temeraire, William Laurence/Temeraire
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	An (in)Convientient Bond

**Author's Note:**

> no one is allowed to judge me for this

“It is our utmost honour to serve you, Prince Laurence,” the servant said quietly, bowing deeply after having arranged the table and chairs outside the dragon pavilion. They were carefully placed in the shade by a small pond filled with koi and lotus blossoms, sunlight dappling through the gently rustling leaves. Across the courtyard stood the pavilion, where one could see Temeraire lounging with Mei, the Celestial and Imperial lying almost on top of each other.

“I--thank you.” Laurence had finally given up on trying to get the servants to address him as anything other than ‘Prince Laurence’, or to stop bowing so much in his presence. He still refused to come to terms with his position as adopted Prince, but he understood at least that the servants were merely trying to do their duty. He sat down, adjusting his robes to lie more comfortably. This was a more informal meeting with a diplomat, and so he very thankfully did not need to wear the full imperial dragon robes.

“I trust that everything has been pleasant for you, Admiral,” the diplomat said, sitting down across from Laurence after a brief pause. While Laurence had given up on the servants, he had managed to get a few of the more ranking members of the government to understand his aversion to ceremony. The diplomat, thankfully, was one of them.

“It has indeed been pleasant,” Laurence replied with honesty, thinking on the lavish food and luxurious living quarters. He had thought that once the war had passed and he retired from the Aerial Corps that China would cease trying to treat him as if he were a real member of the imperial family. After all, with the war done with, there was not a pressing need for China to pursue any alliances in Europe, and so no need to continue the charade of Laurence in any way being royalty. But, evidently, he had been wrong, and the Chinese were just as eager to treat him like a prince after the war as they were before.

And no matter his desire to be rid of politics forever, Temeraire’s status as a Celestial meant trips to China for attempts at breeding, and endless discussions of how China might help the burgeoning dragon rights movement in Europe. And Laurence could not bring himself to resent such matters, with the lives of so many noble creatures at stake.

“Good, good,” the diplomat said, with a slight smile. “And it has been acceptable for Lung Tien Xiang as well?”

“Yes, he has found this visit quite wonderful.” And Laurence could say so with surety that only the companion to a Celestial could have.

It had been alarming at first, the strange link that formed between him and the newly hatched dragonet, but he in his inexperience assumed it was normal for aviators. It certainly explained why none of them seemed to be eager to start normal families, what with the constant mental presence of a dragon hovering in the edges of their minds. But then he met the other aviators, and witnessed Rankin’s disregard for Levitas, and saw the surprise and concern on their faces when he gasped in joint pain whenever Temeraire was injured.

Then Temeraire was identified as a Celestial, and they came to China for the first time, and everything was explained in such a way that left him disbelieving but unable to refute his own experience. He personally still balked at admitting to having an empathic bond with Temeraire, not because he resented it--that was the exact opposite of the truth, he could no longer imagine life without it--but because it seemed simply too fantastical. But certainly it was real, and for that he was infinitely grateful.

Or maybe something just slightly less than infinitely grateful, Laurence thought with no small amount of embarrassment, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. From that far back section of his head and chest where he always felt the wondrous presence of his dear Temeraire, came the much less welcome sensation of slowly creeping arousal. It was minor yet, more like an itch than anything approaching pleasure, but certainly enough to be distracting.

“It is wonderful that your Chinese has improved so, Admiral Laurence,” the diplomat was saying, thankfully ignorant of Laurence’s predicament. “We may truly discuss the current issue, that of potential Chinese intervention in Britain, to help with Lung Tien Xiang’s campaign to improve dragon welfare.”

From his place at the table, Laurence faced the dragon pavilion, and watched with mixed fascination and dread as Mei nuzzled up against Temeraire’s ruff. He could feel each brush of her muzzle against the sensitive membrane, the sensation second-hand but made all the stronger for how utterly foreign it was. It tingled oddly down his neck, and made his breathing catch in his throat.

He tried to focus, to send a kind of purposeful message to his dragon that now was not quite the time, but Temeraire was either too enraptured with Mei, or ignoring him.

“Admiral Laurence?” the diplomat prompted blandly, his expression never shifting from a lukewarm smile. “Your thoughts?”

“Yes, uh, China’s assistance would be very welcome, especially when it comes to…” He trailed off with a barely restrained groan, clenching his jaw so tightly it hurt. Mei had evidently moved on from mere nuzzling to licking, though he dared not look to confirm his suspicion, not that he needed to. He could feel it: the heavy warmth, the wetness, the strange roughly smooth texture dragging, catching delightfully and pulling just so--!

“Yes, Admiral Laurence?”

“...comes to city planning and other kinds of--of--” he cut himself off by snapping his mouth shut so quickly his teeth clacked. The sensation of rough, slick warmth seemed to envelope him, impossible to pinpoint and just out of reach, yet the shivering arousal suffused his skin thoroughly. He balled his fists into his robe, knuckles white, and tried to force his breathing to even out. From the dragon pavilion came appreciative gasps and rumbling moans of draconic pleasure, and Laurence fought to keep himself from adding to the obscene noises.

“Kinds of social organisation,” the diplomat provided helpfully, as calm and unflustered now as he was in the beginning of the meeting. “Are there any particular areas where we might be of assistance? Any areas that you see your country having significant issues?”

I’m having a significant issue now, Laurence wanted to say, but instead he only gave what he hoped would be a thoughtful hum. He found himself shifting in place, the silken robes not providing much in the way of relief, and forced himself to still. It was like burning alive, the heat within his skin, the phantom drag of a tongue across his entire oversensitized body. He could feel Temeraire’s enthusiasm bleeding into his own ragged awareness, the desire to be touched and to rut flowing hot and electric through him.

It was with apprehension and an embarrassingly large amount of genuine arousal that Laurence watched Temeraire withdraw slowly from Mei’s attentions and position himself overtop of her, bracing himself along her back with one hind leg thrown across her hips.

He knew it was coming, but Laurence still couldn’t help but hiss softly as he felt his own member be enveloped by the ghost of something slick and burning. He could feel each of Temeraire’s thrusts as an echo through his entire body, and had to hold himself rigidly still lest his own hips begin to move. The diplomat was still eyeing him impassively, eyes inscrutable, waiting with an air of endless patience for an answer.

His skin was too tight, too warm, tingling all over with arousal and pleasure that was at once so powerful as to be overwhelming and yet also not nearly enough. It was within him, coming from that space in his chest that was Temeraire’s, but too distant to give any relief, a mere phantom that touched and played with him teasingly. He could feel the growing arousal and desperation that was not his own--Temeraire’s quickening thrusts shivering through him--but the line was blurring dangerously, and Laurence began softly panting despite himself.

“I… I think the main issue is one of--one of social divide,” he managed to choke out, pressing down hard on his thighs to stop them from shuddering. The sound of his own voice, wrecked and wanton, combined with how he knew he must appear--shaking, flushed, and sweating, blue eyes darkened with need--sent a lance of humiliation through him. How pitiful he must look to the diplomat, who was surely judging him now, thinking of how immoral he must be, this adopted prince so overcome with unrestrained lust.

(Of course, the diplomat’s expression remained flat and dispassionate as ever, and Laurence felt himself strangely disappointed by that fact.)

These thoughts should have disgusted him, should have extinguished any passion at once, but confusingly they only served to enflame his desire. He could feel, distinct from what he received second-hand from his dragon, his own burgeoning arousal burning under his skin; and the very idea that he was becoming aroused by his own immodesty sent another wave of shame through him, which in turn only served to set him shivering, and a quiet moan managed to escape his clenched jaw.

Luckily, any possible sounds Laurence could have made were well disguised by the bellowing groans and grunts of the two dragons, and he watched with rapt attention as Temeraire began to lose any semblance of control. The Celestial’s tail thrashed wildly, his entire body coiled with tension as he hunched over Mei’s back, who was scrabbling at the pavilion’s paving stones and all but roaring her appreciation.

“Yes, social change would be exceedingly difficult to bring about…” the diplomat droned.

Laurence clenched his hands together until he feared his nails might draw blood, trembling with the urge to forgo civilisation all together and rub at himself through his stifling robes. His breathing came to mirror Temeraire’s: harsh gasps through gritted teeth, quick and irregular.

"... especially considering the barbaric history of your country…"

He could not bring himself to be offended at the remark, not when he felt a building tightness under his skin. Temeraire was dangerously close to finishing, and Laurence wanted to sob at the overwhelming combination of sensations: the illusion of thrusting into something so hot and slick, the foreign instinct to rut pressing into his awareness, the wet drag of a tongue against a frill he did not have. It pulled a truly embarrassing moan out of him, and a not insignificant part of himself wanted nothing more than to give in to the phantom pleasure. Let it boil in his skin as he gasped and cried alongside his dragon, a hand rubbing along his own member in time with Temeraire's thrusts…

"...and the very recent formation of any kind of dragon rights or legal status." The diplomat paused, waiting for a response.

It was only then that Laurence realized that he had been rocking against his own hand, palm pressing deliciously against his burning need. It took a significant amount of his fraying willpower to withdraw his hand, but responding to the diplomat was impossible. Laurence knew that if he opened his mouth, every shameful moan he was so desperately holding back would spill out. He panicked briefly, through the haze of both Temeraire's arousal and his own, before the very ground trembled and a great roar rocked through the sky.

It was the only warning Laurence got before Temeraire's climax swept through him second-hand, a cascade of electric pleasure that shocked and tingled through his skin. Every muscle went taught, and he was helpless to stop himself from throwing his head back and gasping, a hand instinctively dropping down to rub frantically between his legs. 

Then, Temeraire's relaxed satisfaction flowed through the bond, making Laurence drowsy as well. Without his dragon directly adding to his arousal, he was able to shakily halt his hand and press it firmly against one thigh. But his own finish had not come, and he shuddered with efforts to collect himself. Not since he had been but a boy newly enlisted in the Navy had he been that helpless to control his urges. And he felt that control slipping away, with his building shame confusingly only enflaming his desire-- a desire that was nearly unbearable, with how painfully close he was and how his entire body throbbed hotly with need.

The diplomat, by some strange force, remained impassive. "Do you wish to think over what we have discussed in your quarters?" It was the closest thing to acknowledgement of Laurence's predicament that the Chinese man had given all afternoon.

The sudden rush of humiliation at having been seen in such a state almost carried Laurence over the edge, and he had to clench his jaw to keep a groan from escaping. "Y-yes, I think I shall." He all but stumbled to his feet, and staggered quickly out of the courtyard and into the palace. Luckily, the servants either guessed what was going on or simply did not want to bother the clearly distressed prince, and so they left him alone. The few neatening his chambers were quick to dismiss, though Laurence still did his best to compliment them for their dedication. Then, blissfully alone, he finally gave in.

Robes shed as fast as possible, he threw himself onto the bed and reached down with only a hint of shame. Taking himself in hand, it took only three firm strokes before he was sobbing into the pillows, his climax stronger and longer than any he had felt. He thrust weakly into his palm as he rode out the seemingly endless waves of pleasure, every moan and gasp that he had suppressed falling from his lips. When he finally truly finished, he could do nothing but lie there limply, too boneless to bear moving.

Drowsy and satisfied, he was about to roll over and nap--though the Naval officer in him protested about the mess on his skin and sheets--when that familiar tickle ran up his neck. Wet, hot, demanding. Temeraire's arousal once more bloomed in his mind, and Laurence was not as spent as he thought. He felt his body responding, shockingly fast, and pressed his face into the pillows, whimpering. He knew from other, more experienced aviators that some dragons would mate non-stop for hours, and given Temeraire's enthusiasm for Mei…

Laurence was in for a long day.

**Author's Note:**

> I am absolutely going to add more chapters, so that the Laurence/Temeraire tag will be fully in effect, and because no one else has written Laurence/Mianning and I plan to be the first
> 
> (also, I know that Laurence is a baronet at the end of the series and so his title is really "Sir Laurence", but Admiral sounds cooler, okay?)


End file.
